


In a Universe Far, Far Away

by HDLynn



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 2000s/2010s fanfic tropes, Alternate Universe - Crack, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaos, Dealing with Grief and Change, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Language, Mand'alor!Din, Rating will change, Slow Burn, Some angst, exploring past the season 2, finale spoilers for season 2, mando culture, not canon compliant but that is the point, unexplained “magic”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: The night before your favorite show airs its finale for the second season you find yourself transported under strange circumstances into a galaxy far, far away. Where everything and everyone is similar, yet different from what you were expecting.
Relationships: Din Djarin x Earthling!reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 140
Kudos: 241
Collections: SW Happy SIs





	1. Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> Fic was originally titled "Midnight Snack", apologizes for any confusion but I wasn't originally meaning for this to become a multiple chapter thing buuuuuuut.... #whoops XD

It had been a long week, and month, and well really the fucking year had been long, to be honest. 2020 had not been kind in many respects, but one thing was certain. If you needed to get a snack at 1 AM? You went and got it.

Yes, perhaps you should have been asleep, but some nights were just like this. So you didn’t beat yourself up too much as you went to the kitchen to look through what was on offer. There were a couple of things you noticed needing restocking from the shops, you made a mental note to make an actual note in the morning. Would you remember in the morning? Possibly not, but at 1 AM you didn’t really care at the moment.

You made a happy sound at finding cheese in the fridge, there had to be crackers in the pantry right?

Holding the block of your favorite cheese you turned towards the pantry right as you felt a tingling in your nose. Turning your face sharply into your elbow you let out a huge sneeze that almost made you feel lightheaded. Man, that had been a bad one, random too, it wasn’t like your kitchen was super dusty.

Blinking your eyes in the bright kitchen light, you saw that… it wasn’t your kitchen light that was bright, you weren’t even in your kitchen.

No, instead you were inside a metal room with chairs at the side. Chairs that currently were empty because all of the people who perhaps had been recently sitting in them were standing poised with what looked like guns at you.

Not guns, you told yourself, blasters, like in Star Wars. Speaking of which, everyone seemed to be in cosplay?

“What the fuck,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder expecting to see your kitchen, something familiar but you were confronted by metal and paint. Except it wasn’t completely unfamiliar, this was a ship you knew. It was Slave I, but it couldn’t be Slave I. That was just a set, you didn’t even think there was a replica at Disney World. No, you could hear the hum and workings of a ship, everything smelled of metal and ozone. The dirt and grime on the floor, the smell of sweat in the air, the coldest seeping through your socks was too real to be a set.

“Who are you? How did you get on here?” A deep metallic voice spat out questions at you as your face snapped back to the four people in front of you.

They all looked familiar enough. Boba Fett, Cara Dune, Fennec Shand, and… Din Djarin. How?

The faces you could see were similar enough, yet markedly different from the actors you knew. But these people did not carry themselves like regular people you knew, no they held their bodies as if they were ready to spring into action and take you down at a moment’s notice. That, and there was a certain weight to the weapons that they held that your brain told you meant those blasters were not fake. They radiated honed and practiced danger.

“Did Moff Gideon send you to spy on us? To keep track of me?” The questions kept coming as you stared at the towering man in silver beskar as he advanced on you and your block of cheese.

“What? I?! No!” You protest, trying to scurry away but a heavy hand came down on your shoulder.

This was not at all the kind of touch your brain had liked to imagine when you were deep in the show’s fandom.

You looked panicked at the others but didn’t see much sympathy.

“You all really think I’m a spy who somehow snuck onto your ship in my pajamas, no shoes, _and a block of cheese_?!” You asked, your voice cracking in panic as you tried to shrug off Mando’s hand only for it to clamp down even harder until you whimpered.

“She has a point,” Fennec said. It surprised you, you had nearly forgotten she was there, the assassin being so good at just melting into the background even in this small ship and in a short space of time. “If she is a spy she is a piss poor one.”

“So explain who you are, why you’re here,” Cara stated, she was slipping her blaster back into her holster. You clearly were looking like less of a physical threat at least.

“I?” You drew a blank, if this was really what could you say to explain when you didn’t even know what was going on. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

“I suggest… you _try_ ,” Din said, his tone wasn’t cajoling. No instead it was full of ice and steel even as his hand left you. A small thing, but you took it as he was actually giving you a shot to prove yourself. No pressure at all.

You swallowed thickly as he crossed his arms, somehow he made himself look even bigger with the movement.

“Fine!” You explained, pointing at each person in turn. “Where I come from you all are fictional characters in a TV show and movies. Cara, you got choked out by baby Grogu over an arm-wrestling match. Boba Fett, you freakin escaped a Sarlacc pit, which you sorta got pushed into by a dude who was blind at the time. Fennec, I really don’t know much about you except you are terrifyingly cool and have something to do with the Bad Batch? And…”

You pause as your gaze stopped on Din Djarin, or perhaps Mando was the correct name right now.

He radiated a terrifying energy, it honestly scared you. It made your voice quiet and your free hand retreat to clutch at the softness of your sweater. You had pulled the sweater on for your trip to the kitchen and now it felt like the last thing that was grounding you.

“And… on Nevarro you went back for Grogu after you saw the silver knob wasn’t on the lever. It wasn’t on where it should have been because he had been playing with it — and it currently is in your pocket right now.”

There is an ominous silence as you finish your mini diatribe, everyone — at least the faces you could see — were either shocked or carefully schooled to not give anything away.

You shrugged awkwardly, “I know not all of you were alone for those things but that's what I got right now.”

Mando — you force yourself to use his title, you really don’t think this man would like some stranger he clearly doesn’t trust using his name — tilts his head the slightest bit. You can’t look away from the dark visor, his gaze hidden yet sharp. This is no panicked father of a missing child in front of you, this is the professional and calculating bounty hunter. He likely was looking for any kind of tell, a wrong twitch of a finger or a gaze away at the wrong moment to decide if you were lying.

Thankfully for you? You didn’t have anything to lie about right now.

“It isn’t in my pocket,” came the deep voice filtering through the vocal modulator.

“What?” You blinked in confusion, your brain has decided that it didn’t want to hold onto short-term memories perhaps due to stress.

“The ball, it isn’t in my pocket,” the words came out more clipped now, like he was having to force them out. “It’s in my pouch,” he tapped at said pouch before shaking his head. “ _Dank ferrik_ , as if we didn’t have enough magic bullshit.”

You sagged where you stood, relief flooding your veins.

“You believe me?” the hope was bright in your voice.

“I think we believe that you aren’t as simple a puzzle as we might have thought,” Boba said, his accent even thicker and warmer than his screen counterparts. “I need to get back up top, I’m leaving this to you all.”

“So, what happens next, magic girl?” Cara asked sarcastically as she sprawled back into her chair.

You grimaced, “I honestly have no idea. One moment I’m getting a late-night snack out of the fridge and the next moment?” You gestured to the interior of the ship with your cheese, “Next thing I see if all of this, all of you.”

A hand came back down on your shoulder, the weight firm but not so rough this time.

“Do you…”

You looked up at Mando’s visor, eyes wide, not exactly in fear but something like it.

But his next questions were much softer, hesitant even in the venerability needed to ask you, a stranger, “Do you know… what’s going on right now with the kid? With Grogu?”

The air was knocked out of you, “I’m sorry, but I… I was supposed to see the next episode tomorrow… so I don’t know.”

~*~*~


	2. Meet-Snark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When under the watch of Mando, you perhaps start getting yourself into some trouble.

Well, things _could_ be worse, you supposed.

Sure, you were still currently in your pajamas, but someone had found an extra pair of shoes that were close enough to your shoe size. You had no idea whose they might have been, but it was nice to not have freezing toes.

Even after deciding that you were probably not a spy or an assassin, you had been given a brisk pat-down and then handcuffed. Of course, there hadn’t been much of anything to find. You didn’t even have your damn cell phone on you. But what added insult to injury? Your cheese had been confiscated. 

Thankfully, you had been able to convince them to not toss it out and instead put it in their fridge — or the conservator as they called it. It would’ve been sad to have just lost it after all.

That all had been some hours ago, everyone being mostly alright to ignore you so long as you didn’t make any sudden moves. They had bigger issues to deal with at the moment than try to figure you out.

Boba was currently up top, and Cara and Fennec had bunked down for the night elsewhere on the ship. 

You sort of wished you had looked up more about Slave I, you knew more about the Razor Crest… and yeah that knowledge seemed a bit outdated. Not useless though you mused, this ship, however? It was a bit more of a mystery to you outside of the rotating passenger deck, which was admittedly pretty cool in person.

Then there was Din — The Mandalorian, you amended. He didn’t feel like the Din Djarin you’d seen portrayed on screen by Pedro Pascal. Similar but yet… not the same.

Seeing as the rest of the crew didn’t look like their actors, it only was logical that he wasn’t a look-a-like either. That and the details of his armor was a bit different, not in huge ways but the differences were there. There was the cloak, of course, but it was a darker color, much closer to black than the show. The mudhorn skull signet looked practically the same, shining bright on the unpainted beskar. The gauntlets on the backs of his hands were different, they still had the triangles on them but they were red instead of blue. Odd. That tickled something in your memories but you couldn’t remember exactly what, you only knew it was familiar for some reason.

Your gaze moved up to his dark visor, which was currently looking right back at you, you felt your face heat. He had caught you examining him, your face had probably been screwed up in deep thought. But Din — Mando — didn’t say anything. The weight of the quietness seeming to settle heavily on your shoulders until you broke the silence yourself.

“Is this _really_ necessary?” You ask, referencing the cold metal cuffs around your wrists. They were heavy on your wrists, you were tired and cranky and it made you perhaps a bit more mouthy than you might normally have been.

“We decided you probably aren’t a spy, that doesn’t mean I- we trust you,” Mando eventually said, even through the modulator you could hear the tired condescension in his tone.

You took in a breath, sort of offended, but you let it out. Right now was probably not the best time to start picking fights.

There was a dull ache starting to build behind your eyes, probably since you hadn’t slept since? Actually, you weren’t sure. It had been rather late for you when this all had started and space travel? You had literally no frame of reference at the moment for how time was passing. There was no “day” or “night” as you were used to so your already messed up sleep schedule was well and truly fucked.

You shifted your body in the chair you had been ordered to sit in and tried to find a comfortable position. Maybe, just maybe you could get some sleep sitting up? You sure felt tired enough to try at least.

When you accidentally jammed your elbow into something metal, you cursed at the pain that shot up your arm.

“What are you doing?” came the tired question.

You look back to Mando, but his helmet was now turned noticeably upwards, clearly not looking at you. No sneaky bit of chin in sight, everything was covered in cape and cowl.

“I’m _trying_ to get comfortable and try to sleep,” you said with a frown. A thought crossing your tired mind unbidden and it just popped out. “Have you even slept properly since Morak?” You ask.

The helmet resolutely did not look towards you, apparently, he was going to try ignoring you. You knew he wasn’t sleeping though, one gloved finger tapping idly at his thigh.

You almost started out with his name but caught yourself, “Don’t tell me it’s been since Tython. Or before that even?”

“How do you… shit. Why do you want to know?” Came the gruff reply, perhaps you would have read it as angry if you had totally unfamiliar with Mando. But you oddly sort of were familiar with him in a way, and you thought he sounded perhaps slightly annoyed but more just drained.

Well, you certainly couldn't tell this Mando that you cared about him because of two seasons of a tv show, this all might be an insane situation but there were still some things that went well past the realm of reason to share. So you changed the subject instead. 

“Don’t curse at me,” you sniffed and then paused. Your head tilted and you fought the urge to smirk, perhaps the lack of sleep had also caused you to have less self-preservation than you might have otherwise. “Mir’sheb.”

Din’s head turned to look at you quickly at that insult.

“How do you know Mando’a?” came the sharp question. The finger that had been tapping had stopped.

Sucking in a breath, you tried to not let yourself be intimidated and didn’t do so great. The man was terrifying when he wanted to be, and he wanted to be right now.

“I told you, this,” you gestured with your bound hands to the ship but also the further expanse outside of the vessel. “This is all — was all — a fictional world where I come from. Slave I, the Razor Crest, you, Grogu, Mando’a? It is all parts of that story. Hell, I keep expecting to fucking wake up. Yet here I still am sore wrists and sparkling company and all.”

He muttered something under his breath you couldn’t make out over the hum of the ship and the distortion of the vocal modulator.

“I can tell you more of what I know if you want,” you jibed, the need to prove yourself both not insane but also right at the forefront of your mind.

Mando stared at you for a while, his helmet tilted just a slight bit to the left. He had gone completely still again.

There was a bit of static, perhaps the interpretation of a breath being taken in before he was about to speak when you both were interrupted. 

Boba’s voice came over the intercom system, breaking the route your little conversation was currently headed down.

“I have a lock on the ship we’re after, I suggest everyone be up and ready. Things might get a bit bumpy.”

With that, the deep voice, with an accent you could only place as being from New Zealand since that was the closest comparison you had, clicked out with the system.

“Stay there, don’t move,” Mando warned as he got up and headed — you assumed — to go wake up Cara and Fennec.

You pressed your lips together to keep from lobbing a sharp retort to his retreating form, guess you weren’t going to get any sleep anytime soon now. Damn it.

~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Mir’sheb - smartass


	3. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the introduction of more characters, tensions rise as the reader forgets what self-preservation is.

The gyro systems shifted and kept the passenger desk you were on level, the shell shifting around you. The windows showed the darkness of space and the stars beyond. The transparisteel slid away to reveal more of the grey, silver, and yellow-painted metal of the hull.

You were again grateful that you had been buckled into your seat as Slave I shook with a dull rumble as it coupled with the ship that you all had been chasing after. Not that you knew who was on this ship or why they were after them. You hadn’t thought it wise to ask at the moment and, after all, the last thing you had seen on the show the previous week had mainly consisted of Din making that wonderfully delicious threat to the Moff, quoting back the man’s own words to him from the last time they had faced off.

You had figured it wasn’t wise to ask if that had happened or not, but you found it rather safe to assume it had. If this Mando was as similar to the one in the show at least? Man, that wasn’t confusing at fricking all.

Fennec stayed back to keep half an eye on you as you watched this Mando and Cara go to board the ship. Boba had done a scan of the ship and confirmed what they had been figuring, that there were only three lifeforms on board: the pilot, a co-pilot, and an extra passenger.

There were only a few moments before you jumped at a couple sharp sounds. Eyes wide, you stared towards the way they had gone. Was that? It was blaster fire, it had to be. You knew the sounds of course, but hearing them in real life? Knowing that the shots going off right now meant that someone was most likely dying? It sobered you up, how easily you could have been on the receiving end of just one of those blasters suddenly hitting you. The blood drained from your face and you were grateful for whatever curiosity that had stayed everyone’s hands when you had shown up on the ship.

You must’ve made some sort of sound or movement for Fennec glanced in your direction, a dark brow raised at your distress. She didn’t apparently deem it worthy enough of an actual comment and just shook her head in bemusement at your distress, this was her daily life and not out of the ordinary.

Cara came storming back alone, her face dark with anger that frightened you and made you shrink further into your seat. Perhaps if you were as out of the way as possible you could draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

Two figures followed shortly after her. A thin, tall man was being directed at blaster point onto Slave I by Mando.

Dr. Pershing, your brain supplied after a moment. Again, the similarities from the show were enough to give you an idea of who he was. They must be aiming to get more specific information on Gideon’s ship since they now knew where it was.

The man was forced into a pair of cuffs like your own and into a seat across from you.

As Mando did this, you saw Cara take a calming breath before she spoke.

“Even with this imp, we’re going to need a few more hands than just this imp to take on a light cruiser.”

Din was quiet for a moment before sighing, “I… might know some people who will help.”

Fennec had ended up being the one to pilot the imperial shuttle, following the Boba’s wake in hyperspace for the short jump. You watched as the systems rotated again as Fett landed the ship onto an unknown planet. Well… not that you actually had seen another planet that wasn’t Earth. That was a sobering thought, but you couldn’t help craning around so you could take in the sights of what appeared to be an airfield with numerous spaceships.

The trip to this planet hadn’t taken terribly long. Even still, you were grateful when it was deemed time to feed you and Pershing when the two Mandalorians had gone off to find the “help” Mando had been talking about.

While the flavors and textures of the food were slightly odd from what was familiar to your palette, food was food and you were ravenous. The cuffs had even come off for a bit while you shoveled the food down and also for a bathroom break.

You had scrubbed up your face a bit with the small amount of time you had in the refresher, a shower or something would have been heaven with how grimy you were starting to feel but that wasn’t in the cards at the moment. The solid rap of Cara’s hand on the door indicating your time was up.

“Hands,” she demanded when you came out.

You sighed with a frown as you held out your hands for her to put the cuffs back on. You knew Marshal Dune was a seasoned warrior and you had no illusions that you could even try to hold your own against her in a scuffle. So you let yourself be cuffed again and ordered back into your seat even as your back and ass started to ache from being in the same uncomfortable position.

All there was to do was wait as Cara and Fennec discussed amongst themselves quietly. Pershing was too jumpy to even think of talking to and you really didn’t have anything you actually wanted to talk to him about so you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Even if you couldn’t get any sleep in this position, perhaps you could ponder on who Din might be trying to bring into this mission.

If this was going to be narratively like the last season, it would make sense that there would be some sort of team-up.

Mayfeld wouldn’t make sense at all, they had just parted ways. You highly doubted that Marshal Cobb would be involved in this, you might not know where you were but you were very sure this planet wasn’t Tatooine and he didn’t have Fett’s armor anymore. Ahsoka maybe? That could be interesting to be sure, like had already been pointed out a Mandalorian working with a Jedi? Gideon probably wouldn’t see that coming… unless. No that could make sense, you mused. It could be the other Mandalorians, they certainly had their… differences. But if this Din was like the one from the show? The same man who took his helmet off in a room with troopers? You could see him working with even those who wrote him off as just being from a cult.

So when you saw that the number of Mandalorians had doubled when they came back you were deeply intrigued by this choice.

This Bo-Katan was perhaps the most similar yet most different to the actress you knew as playing her in the show. She was clearly a warrior, the blue and white painted design of her helm calling back to her clan’s sigil — the owl. Then there were the familiar bright green eyes and the red hair. But she was clearly closer to her mid-fifties rather than the actress who you were pretty sure was closer to 40.

The former Mand’alor carried the years on her face with an iron grace that said she didn’t give a fuck if the lines on her face might be deep in places or that she had white streaking from her temples. And the attitude translated to how she carried herself and even into that of how her companion, Koska, did as well.

Both of the Nite Owls barely glanced over you before deciding that you were of little import to them and you were sort of glad of it.

You had watched as everyone conversed amongst themselves, going over the layout of the light cruiser that Moff Gideon was holding Grogu on. It was mind-boggling to see the glowing blue image and how quickly and seamlessly they were able to interact with it, zipping from one side of the ship from the area that was holding the dark-trooper droids to the brig where Pershing swore they were holding the child.

The plan involved the use of both Boba’s ship as well as the Imperial shuttle that they had taken with a healthy amount of subterfuge to get the crew boarding the cruiser enough confusion to start taking the most important targets out while Mando shut down the droids and then he would get the kid.

It quickly became clear that Pershing and you were to be left with Boba on Slave I while everyone else would make up the team boarding the cruiser. As much as you wanted to know what was going on with the rescue mission? You couldn’t help but feel relief at this. You were just wearing borrowed shoes and your pajamas after all, and while you might know the right end of a blaster from observation, that didn’t mean you were going to be of any help. Hell, they still obviously didn’t trust you, you were still in cuffs like the fricking imp was.

While you freaked out internally everyone else went about gathering up their weapons before the two ships would take off shortly.

That was until you heard the tail end of a conversation happening between Bo-Katan and Koska.

“To think we’re working with such bedfellows to finally retrieve what is rightfully mine,” Bo-Katan said, her tone derisive and dripping with obvious disdain.

You couldn’t help the snort of the words that escaped you, “That’s rich.”

Bo-Katan’s whole body stiffened at your words, and she slowly turned to look at you. Sharp green eyes examined you as if it was the first time she had actually looked at you, and perhaps it was. She had definitely written you off the moment she’d seen you in your pajamas and borrowed boots.

“What do you know of such things?” The question was low and full of unspoken violence.

You should stop talking, you really, really should. But do you? No.

“Enough to know I’d rather put my trust in Boba or Mando than you any day.” You could have left it at that, but you didn’t. “At least they keep their word as they give it and don’t try to change the terms after the fact.”

Riding high off the adrenaline of having delivered such a resounding insult, you could feel your hands trembling with energy and you had to clench them into fists to keep ahold of yourself.

Somewhere to the side of you, there was a muffled snort that came from Boba. At the same time, there was a sharp inhale from Koska.

You didn’t even realize the former Mand’alor was stepping towards you, eyes ice-cold with intent, until Din’s form slid in front of you.

His broad back, covered in the dusty charcoal black of his cape, practically blotted out the light from the interior of the ship. A sudden wall of beskar and man came between you and the Mandalorian you had been purposefully antagonizing.

You blinked in surprise before realization washed over you. She had been moving to reprimand you, either to intimidate you by standing over you or perhaps even strike you, you weren’t sure which it might have been.

There was a tense silence, both Mandalorians sizing each other up.

The only part of the exchange you could see was Din’s gloved hand flex at his side, the black and orange leather creaking slightly in the silence until Bo-Katan snorted in derision.

“Really?” you couldn’t see Bo-Katan’s face but you could hear the scoff in her words. “Adiik be te Kyr’tsad gar motir par ibic aruetii?”

You only caught part of her meaning, the spoken language harder to follow than when you had only learned some Mando’a and that had been mainly all read. But you knew she was calling you an outsider.

The light bounced and slid over the silver beskar of Din’s helmet as he tilted his head slightly in apparent thought. “I didn’t think that Mando’ade struck restrained neverde.”

He lobbed the implied jab with expert precision, both insult yet also a reminder.  
She must have made some move to back off for Din half turned to you, and the thought that he might have been pleased with you for sticking up for him and Boba was quickly dashed.

He just shook his head slightly.

“Keep your mouth shut, we don’t have time for this,” he ordered tersely before turning away on his heel.

Your face heated with embarrassment, and you looked at your hands. The cuffs were safer to look at than anyone else at the moment as you realized what you had been doing. In your need to be right, to get a little jab in you had been furthering strife when everyone clearly needed to be concentrating on rescuing Grogu. Even if Bo-Katan had started it, you couldn’t help the twisting in your stomach.

He was right, now wasn’t the time to be smart and snarky. You wanted to jettison yourself out of the ship upon realizing what you had sunk to.

If this was all truly… somehow real? And you were becoming rather sure it was. You needed to be more careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Adiik be te Kyr’tsad gar motir par ibic aruetii? - Child of the Death Watch you stand for this outsider?  
> Mando’ade - Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore  
> neverd(e) - civilian(s)


	4. Trustworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the time before the rescue mission can fully start, you start to feel out what kind of place you have on Slave I.

You listened to the hum of the engines coming to life, the passenger deck oddly empty now. Even in the short time you had been on Slave-I, you had grown used to the almost cramped feeling the area had when occupied with the forces of personality that were contained in the bodies of several Mandalorians, an ex-rebel shock trooper, and a (supposedly) ex-assassin. To say that the energy levels involved with those people were high would be an understatement.

When it was now just you and Dr. Pershing? This space, while still rather small, felt hollow, an echoey metal shell that was what? Perhaps just a few mere inches from the cold vacuum of space? That thought alone was enough to put goosebumps up and down your arms. The closest comparison you had was flying on a plane, yet the vastness of space was a different animal to a single planet’s atmosphere.

The doctor hadn’t tried to talk to you after the first attempt had earned him a glare from you. You had little patience for a man who experimented on a toddler. Certainly, he was sure to have a story of how he had come to be working under Moff Gideon, yet at the moment? You couldn’t find it in yourself to be at all interested. Maybe it was short-sighted to not get any tidbit of information you could, but after the rest of the crew had transferred to the Imperial Transport you couldn’t concentrate on much else except worry about the plan.

There had been worry after the episode that had been upcoming, after all, it was the finale of the season. But this? This was different. You weren’t just watching a screen from the safety of your house with plans to talk about what would occur with your friends once everyone had been able to watch. There was some stress in that wait, but it was just a show it didn’t affect you personally outside of what joy or sorrow you let the story have over you.

No. This was wholly different now. As far as you were concerned you had been breathing the same recycled air with five people — living breathing people — who might not come back. It was a sobering thought, to say the least.

How long you sat turning yourself into mental knots about all this, you couldn’t say. But you were broken from your reflections when the lights on the cuffs on your hands blinked bright blue and then turned off as the mechanisms shicked open with the slide of metal against metal.

Boba’s voice came over the intercom as you fumbled with the cuffs. You just barely were able to keep the heavy metal cuffs from clattering onto the ground.

“Take a trip to the ‘fresher, if you need to, and then come up top. Be quick about it.”

The directions were curt and to the point and the system shut off before you could respond.

You gave Pershing a pointed look as if to say ‘ _see they don’t think I’m with the Empire like you_ ’.

Even so, you were still a little unmoored, as it were. You didn’t have to use the refresher so you placed the cuffs onto your seat as you hesitantly got up.

The muscles in your legs ached, and it felt so good to stretch them out again properly. Though you didn’t dare dawdle for too long and you made your way over to where you had seen Fett disappear when he had gone to the pilot’s area before taking off.

The ladder rungs were cool under your hands, but surprisingly not smooth or slick as you had assumed it would be. Whoever had designed it had been rather thoughtful in including a texture to the surface making it easier to grip onto.

You were not exactly sure how far up the climb was but it was enough to make you rather concerned about if you were to fall. So you decided it was best to not look downwards.

The climb was long enough though that your arms started to ache slightly, your hands cramping from how tightly you held onto each rung. So when you arrived at the upper deck it was with great relief which then turned into a gasp at what you saw.

For your eyes barely saw the technology, the lights, switches, scanners, and buttons that all kept this spaceship running. You didn’t really even take note of the pilot who had called you up there. No instead your gaze had been caught in the brilliant blues, purples, and white depths of hyperspace.

Just like how a human brain can somehow innately discern fake tears from real ones, or how it is always easy to notice how an actor has an empty cup rather than a full one. You knew at that moment that you truly were traveling in hyperspace. If this was a movie this would be when the music would swell in awe at the beautiful majesty of the sight, but alas there was no music, only the hum of technology and an air system kicking on in the background.

You were contained in a metal and glass bubble, being transported from one section of a universe that you didn’t know to another spot so far away you couldn’t even fathom it. There was no point of reference from your own experiences that compared. The closest there might be were train rides, or flying on a plane perhaps but both of those paled in comparison with this, the feeling of being moving so fast yet somehow like you were inside a moment that had been frozen in time as the ship you were on followed the Empire transport the rest of the rescue team was currently on.

Mouth open in awe, you were broken from your reverie by an amused sound that came from the pilot: Boba Fett.

“Never been in hyperspace before?” He pressed a button that caused a seat to unfold from the wall it had been stored in with a quiet hiss of hydraulics. “Sit,” he ordered.

You snapped your jaw closed and stumbled in your borrowed shoes — they were close to your size but not a perfect fit by any means — before you settled into the chair. There was a moment you were unsure if you wanted to buckle in or not, but then you decided you probably should. After all when the ship dropped out of hyperspace you all would be engaging in a bit of battle theatre so that the rescue team could get close enough to board the cruiser in all the confusion, you would much rather be buckled in for that.

“No, I haven’t been in hyperspace, much less space before,” you explained.

Fett didn’t seem to give much indication he was listening, continuing to pilot the ship.

This lasted for some time. He was apparently just fine the silence stretching between you both, but for you it was horrid. You wanted to know the answers to so many things right now, but first on your mind? Were you safe with these people? Or did they still think you were some sort of enemy that would be just dealt with later?

“So… am I being deemed trustworthy now?” You asked about the abandoned cuffs, hope colored your voice.

Boba scoffed slightly, the scarred skin puckering as his mouth twitched as he gave you a little bit of a side-eye before speaking.

“Trust is a funny thing in times like these,” Fett said as flipped a switch. He examined a screen with — what you assumed — were stats of some kind before switching it back off. “You don’t know me, Fennec, the marshal, or Mando. Yet, you leap to defend our honor like a pissed off strill. Don’t know how you deemed it your place to do.”

Your face filled with heat again at the embarrassment you had felt at being told off by Mando to pretty much “shut up”. Brows knit together, you picked at some dirt underneath your nails.

Boba just huffed a chuckle, “All out of piss and vinegar, Mir’shebika?”

Somehow what should have been an insult came off… not affectionate — you didn’t imagine that this infamous bounty hunter was warm and cuddly with pretty much anyone. But… somehow you knew from something in the assent in his tone that it was meant good-naturedly.

“I guess so,” you mumble.

“I don’t trust you,” he said bluntly, circling back to your original question. “I trust that if you tried anything I could handle you just fine.”

The answer upset you more than it rightly and logically should. After all, you only knew a fictional version of this man. The Boba Fett in front of you had zero connection or loyalty to you, why should he trust you? Why did you expect it? Feel… entitled to that trust begin with? Oh god, there was a term for it. You knew it, it was on the tip of your tongue but couldn’t remember right now.

Shoving the odd disappointment down, you responded. “I guess that makes a lot of sense, but you all at least do believe I’m not an imp, right?”

“Considering if you were you would be the most incompetent spy I’d ever seen? No.” He actually turned to look at you now, dark eyes looking over you shrewdly. “Even the most novice spy would have at least tried to get a weapon the moment the cuffs had come off.”

At the statement, he pointed out a screen you hadn’t noticed before. Looking at the slightly grainy imagine you discovered it was a live feed of the passenger deck below, Pershing was currently in the frame as well as all the other seats from a slightly elevated angle.

He chuckled at your surprise, “You didn’t even try looking for my weapon’s locker, walked right past it. If you are a spy you’re going to need to work harder or I’m going to start thinking you’re utreekov — empty-headed.”

“Not sure if that is an insult or a compliment.”

“Doesn’t really matter, either way, entertains me if you give that stuck-up princess lip.”

You knew exactly who he meant: Bo’Katan Kryze.

Upon reflection, you probably had put yourself into a rather awkward spot by goading the ex-Mand’alor. And to be honest, you really questioned your sanity at that moment, it was clear that while Bo’Katan might be in her mid to late 50s she could and would wipe the floor with you given half the chance.

Before you could speak the communication channel opened up with a light crackle of static. You didn’t even know what was about to be said to know it was showtime.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> mir'shebika - little smart-ass  
> utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)  
> Mand'alor - the sole ruler of the planet Mandalore


	5. The Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the mission being put into action you are left with more questions than answers when you meet back up with the drop crew.

Your fingers dug into the leather edge of the seat as you listened to Bo’Katan and Boba exchange sharp quips right up until the moment the ships had both dropped out of hyperspace. The glow of blue and purple disappeared as the black vastness of space returned with a sudden shift in deceleration that caused you to shift forward, your body pressing against the seat belt that went over your stomach and then across your chest.

The transport in front of you was flying in what you assumed was evasive maneuvers as Boba aimed close, but not too close. The firing of the canons on Slave I were distinct as the flashes of red filled your wide eyes.

You could do nothing but just watch in a mix of horror and wonder as the scene unfolded before you, and then you were suddenly struck that it wasn’t a scene in front of you, it included you.

For all the blasts and colors your brain screamed at you, not about the danger. No, you were currently trying to process the sight of the massive grey ship you all were closing in on.

You knew what it was, Moff Gideon’s ship obviously. You had even seen the glowing blueprints of the Class 546 Cruiser not long ago, but that had been a hologram, a sort of ephemeral image that was abstract enough for your brain to sort of just accept as real.

No this… this was entirely different of a thing altogether.

It was massive, larger than any kind of ship or transport you had ever seen on earth. The closest you could think of was a cruise ship or maybe some giant navy vessel that sailed the ocean. This dwarfed those images. The cruiser was more like a massive building complex that had fractured off to be hung in the dark vacuum of space.

Your brain was literally screaming at you that it was just an image somehow, a trick of the light. You knew exactly how Star Wars filmmakers, in general, put such things up on the screen. It was done with computer magic or painted miniature models and clever shots all to create the idea of size. Yet, you knew — for all your brain’s attempt to place the sight before you into a concept that you were familiar with — this was real and that ship could easily blast you all to pieces so that you were just vaporized dust floating in the void of space. After all, you had just seen that exact thing happen to the Razor Crest on your little screen just weeks before now, you knew what the aftermath looked like.

The channel had remained open from the transport, and you and Boba could hear the ploy being acted out by the rescue team. It might have been a ruse, but even at this moment, you could hear the stress in Bo’Katan’s voice as she hailed the cruiser.

Her voice crackled from the speakers, “This is Lambda shuttle 2743, requesting emergency docking.”

You gripped even tighter onto your seat as Boba sharply maneuvered _Slave I_ to follow close behind the rescue team’s shuttle, there was no immediate response and you could hear Bo’Katan repeat her plea for docking permissions.

The bridge finally responded, though the woman’s voice sounded like it was underwater since you and Boba were only hearing her through the connection with the Lambda shuttle, “Copy, Lambda shuttle. Request received.” There was a slight pause before the voice returned, “stay clear of the launch tube. We’re deploying the fighter squadron.”

“ _Osik_ ,” Boba huffed out more to himself since the team couldn’t hear him currently.

You were struck at the oddity of the man sounding more miffed and much calmer than you felt.

Two TIE fighters launched from the ship in quick succession, and you couldn’t help but breathe a slight sigh of relief as they both bypassed the transport. They still thought the Lambda was being piloted by their people, this could still work.

The shuttle kept hurtling towards the launch bay as Bo’Katan ignored the woman’s harried instructions to stay clear of it.

“Come on, princess,” Boba muttered as the TIE fighters roared past _Slave I_ before turning to pursue your ship from behind.

Green plasma shots started to zoom past, too close for your comfort, but Boba wasn’t panicking. His cool head was the only thing keeping you slightly tethered from just totally freaking out.

There was a long moment as the shuttle got closer and closer to the launch bay while the TIE fighters continued firing at you.

With the skill of someone who had flown for decades, Boba rolled the ship to fly over the cruiser as the shuttle continued on its path.

You could hear and see the cannons at the top of the cruiser firing at you as the TIE fighters continued to give chase. 

Then _Slave I_ was put into a rolling maneuver that made your stomach leap into your throat as Boba took out the first and then the second TIE fighters. It was done so quickly and easily you couldn’t help but realize that all those missed shots earlier had been completely been on purpose. You didn’t have too much time to dwell though for he was already punching the hyperdrive on as you both left the rescue team behind.

It had all happened in the short span of minutes, and the overload of visual information left you stunned.

The ship dropped out of hyperspace almost as quickly as Boba had put it into the slippery space that felt like it was in-between two more stable realities.

He let out a pleased sort of grunt as he checked some readings before he explained, “No one following us so they at least got the docking bay closed off.”

“What… what do we do now?” Your voice cracked from the residual stress that was still flooding through your nervous system. 

“Now,” Boba flicked some switches, and you heard a system kicking in, “we wait. They’ll contact us when they are successful and need to be extracted… or they won’t.”

~*~

There were times where you were forced to look at a situation from a different perspective, almost as if you were a stranger looking inside a problem or situation rather than looking outward from just your perspective. You’d been having a lot of those kinds of moments in the past what? Hours? Days? It was getting really hard to tell how long it had been. The lack of any sort of day/night cycle was fucking with your perception of time in the worst way and it didn’t help some of the spirals of introspection you had been embarking upon.

The fact Boba had been so blasé in mentioning that the rescue team might not make it. They might fail, and it was throwing you through a loop. 

If you had been watching the finale episode on your screen there would have been a sense of some kind of security. You already knew there was a season three confirmed and a season four had already been teased as well by one of the actors in an interview. So having that information could give you some peace of mind… when you had been watching a fucking tv show.

Last season had shocked you with Kuiil and IG’s deaths, it stood to reason that might happen again. Surely Din and Grogu would at the very least be alright, right? But that was assuming everything was the same in this universe as the fictional show and you already had started to notice, at least the physical differences who knows what all might have diverged… or heaven forbid had diverged because of you somehow.

Boba had seemingly gotten enough of your nervous energy so he had given you the task to get some ration tins from the conservator.

After making it down the ladder, which somehow was a scarier feat going down vs up, you had rather easily found the food preservation unit. You’d seen the others pulling meals from it before and you couldn’t help but give a disbelieving huff of laughter at seeing your block of cheese placed on the top shelf. It looked very much out of place seeing as its packaging was the only thing that you could read, everything else was in Galactic or so you assumed. You might know some bits of Mando’a and how that language looked with many of its sharp almost knife-like characters, but you didn’t know how to read it or Galactic Common.

You were tempted to take the cheese, and you pondered on it for a moment before leaving it for now. The block was a new one and you didn’t have anything to wrap it up in to keep it from going hard and you were not about to eat the whole thing.

Saving the cheese for later, you instead picked two random tins, there were little green stickers with black writing on the tops presumedly with the contents or flavors. Boba had mentioned a little mesh sling that was packed away in the cabinet above that you could use to keep your hands free for the ladder.

It took a minute to find it before you returned to the cockpit to find out there hadn’t been any news from the rescue team yet. So there wasn’t much else to do but to eat.

The bounty hunter had laughed out a huff before showing you how to activate the one-time use heat exchanger that was built into the tin and prepackaged utensils. You had sort of looked at him incredulously until you could feel the heat start to emanate from the packaging and heating up the food perfectly after you closed the tin for a couple moments.

The communication line came alive as you were scrapping the last of the meal out of the tin. Boba had already finished his, shoveling it down at a rate that honestly sort of scared you.

“Hey, boss.” Fennec’s voice came through the speakers, “Mission is completed. Requesting a pick up for four… sooner rather than later would be preferable.”

Fett flicked on his side of the channel as he got the hyperdrive coordinates set, “Heard. We’ll be at your location in under three minutes. Any medkits needed when we land?”

“No, not yet. But if you got any mediators that would be helpful,” Fennec quipped.

Fett didn’t have any eyebrows left but you were rather sure they would have been raised at that last little tidbit.

When the ship punched back into space by the cruiser, you saw him frown as there was a beeping that started up as _Slave I_ rocked back and forth before settling again.

You opened your mouth to ask what was going on when he cleared the warning from his screen.

“Caught the waves of a jump, must have just happened,” he explained before you could ask. “Maybe the princess and her acolyte split?”

You nodded hesitantly, though you were rather sure that Bo’Katan Kryze would not have left this cruiser for others to take when that had been part of what sweetened the deal for her to even do this mission. Boba knew it too, but right now what other explanation could there. Unless some imperials had managed to escape but wouldn’t have Fennec mentioned that? Hopefully, all would be explained soon enough.

Rather than heading for the launch tube, Fennec had messaged again with the coordinates of one of the smaller bays since the transport was still blocking the other route.

The size of the ship was still mind-boggling but your brain seemed to be able to ignore the fact once _Slave I_ was being landed inside. Now it just felt more like a hanger, which while still large was more in the categories of things your brain apparently thought as ‘possible’.

Fett slipped the green and red helmet back on before he descended the ladder with you following shortly behind.

The ramp was already lowering by the time you caught up with him.

“Stay here, mir'shebika,” Fett told you, his voice now veiled behind the helmet again before you were left at the top of the ramp.

You narrowed your eyes at Fett for the apparent nickname he was going to continue using for you, but he paid you little heed as he went to meet the others. You didn’t want to stay put, but you also didn’t want to lose your main champion in believing you weren’t a threat in disobeying him. So you did as you were told.

Everyone was already in the hanger and seemingly ready to get going.

Your eyes rounded, that was Din escorting a handcuffed man — who you rather safely assumed was Moff Gideon by the Vader-lite outfit he was wearing — at sword point. So your version of the Mandalorian had the Darksaber, Bo’Katan could not be happy about that. But, this wasn’t… what you had pictured seeing when you landed. Where was the kid? Had something happened to Grogu?

You stayed where Boba had told you to do so, but you couldn’t help to lean forward slightly on your toes. Trying to not be conspicuous, and probably failing miserably, you craned your neck and tried to see if the little one was walking behind Mando or maybe being held by Cara or less likely by Fennec.

Cara was currently talking in a hushed manner with the assassin and while they both had the weapons they had brought, neither of the women had the kid.

“We’re going,” Mando ordered tersely. 

There was a slight pause as Fett took the scene in as you had, his helmet ticking slightly to the side as he stared down the Moff.

“Gar ad’ika?” Fett asked in Mando’a.

There was a moment of silence and you saw Cara grimace, you didn’t need to know that much of the language to understand Fett was asking after the missing child.

Before Mando could formulate an answer, Gideon looked back at his captor with a look of bemused superiority. “Didn’t take much for you to give up the child to the Jedi. I suppose he didn’t mean as much to you as you thought after you got a hold of the Darksaber. We’re not so different after all, Djarin.”

There was a crack of bone as you watched as Mando’s fist connected with the Moff’s face.

The man’s head snapped back and he went down like a sack of potatoes, leaving the man in silver beskar standing over him visibly seething. You didn’t have to see the face behind the helmet to know he was trembling with rage.

“I am nothing like you, _demagolka_ ,” Din spat. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides before he jerked his head towards Boba. “Help me get him onboard.”

You hurried back further into the ship and out of everyone’s ways. The seat that had become “yours” seemed the safest place to be unobtrusive. But really you needed a seat to think. You hadn’t been expected how this was turning out at all. For Din and Grogu to be separated right now? It was all going too fast you couldn’t even feel happy that the mission had succeeded and they had even captured Moff Gideon alive. What should have been a celebration was mournful instead, but if a Jedi had come… that meant it hadn’t been for nothing that Grogu had reached out into the Force earlier, right?

As you tried to sort through things you weren’t trying to listen in to the other’s conversation, but it was sort of hard not to in such a small space.

Cara was putting away her heavy-duty blaster — which looked a bit like a kind of machine gun to you — when she started to speak up. “Mando, are you-” was all she got out before she was cut off short.

“Not _now_ , Cara,” Din snapped.

The New Republic Marshal stiffened, her face reddening in anger at the rebuff.

You could practically feel the prickling energy between those two and you couldn’t help but notice how Fennec was pointedly not engaging. Something had happened on the ship, you just weren’t sure if it only involved Grogu leaving, the dark saber, or something else in addition to all that.

The Mandalorian’s shoulders released some tension as he let out a heavy sigh. “Not right now, Cara. _Please_ ,” there was a crackle to the now softer plea you were not sure if it had been the vocal-modulator in his helmet or if had been thick emotion in his voice.

Cara nodded stiffly in assent, appeased for now even if she clearly still wasn’t happy about it.

Mando turned to Fett, his shoulder slightly rounded and for all the layers of beskar the man just looked… soul weary. “Got any bacta kits?” 

Fett grunted an affirmative and pointed out the cabinet with the medical supplies.

Once Din found what he was looking for he disappeared into the refresher to deal with whatever wounds he had in private. The door slid closed behind him with a hollow metallic hiss with a finality that scared you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Osik - shit  
> mir'shebika - little smart-ass  
> Gar ad’ika? - Your little one?  
> demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, a real-life monster, a war criminal


	6. Hold Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Slave I draws closer to delivering you all back to Navarro after the mission some plans begin to be laid.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

Mando’s voice snapped through the recycled air of the ship, the sharp modulated tone making you jump and almost lose hold of the durasteel knife that Boba had handed you.

“I’m teaching her a proper way to handle a knife,” Boba explained dryly.

“I can see that, I just don’t know why you’re giving her weapons now,” Mando fired back.

Boba sighed and turned to Mando, apparently, “Generally I find people are more likely to accidentally kill themselves if they don’t know what they’re doing.”

There was a slight snort that came Fennec, and you couldn’t help but glance over her way. She was pointedly not watching the scene unfold, but you knew she was taking every single thing in.

“That isn’t what I mean and you know it, why are you giving her weapons?”

Boba tisked, looking back to you and then frowned, displeased with what he saw.

“Well, mir'shebika, the Mand’alor has a point. You aren’t going to be able to stab me properly with a grip like that.”

He fixed your grip as Mando just shook his head in disbelief.

“There, now you won’t accidentally cut your fingers off after the first stab.”

“That isn’t what I- don’t call me that.” Mando groused at the title

“Of course… Mand’alor,” Boba continued to needle, the grin apparent on his face.

Din shook his head in, apparent, frustration as he left you to Boba’s instruction, not willing to take the bait.

You grimaced, as you tried to furtively watch the man depart leaving behind just the swirl of his cape and the shine of beskar burned into your eyes.

Not paying attention, you let your attention on the blade go lax at the wrong moment. It was brought back into sharp focus as you accidentally nicked yourself with the razor-like edge of the blade.

Hissing, you fixed your grip and stuck the hurt finger into your mouth to soothe the wound. It was just a little nick, but fuck if it didn’t sting.

Boba chuckled slightly at your predicament.

“Consider that a lesson in paying attention when you’re handling a weapon,” he said, looking rather bemused as your floundered.

“I wasn’t…” you trailed off, not sure how to not phrase the rest of the sentence without just confirming that you had more certainty been distracted by the enigmatic Mando.

His dark gaze was piercing as you felt your body heat up in embarrassment. It was confusing enough to be dealing with a crush, it was another when it felt like you knew the person when you didn’t. At least, not really. You had snapshots — an idea — of who this Din Djarin was, yet you didn’t know him. This wasn’t an actor you could daydream about from the safety of your room or gush about with friends with little to no chance of ever meeting. No, he was flesh and bone and you doubted that any actor could pull off the same type of energy that he had. There was a quiet ferocity about Mando’s whole being that spoke of all the ways he knew how to kill, but he was also still the same man who had gone back for Grogu. It was confusing and overwhelming, to say the least, and not something you wanted to talk about.

Taking your finger from your mouth, the bleeding already starting to ebb, you put the knife back into its sheath before offering it back to Boba.

The ex-bounty hunter shook his head, “No, that is for you. I’m not letting you walk around without something to protect yourself, mir'shebika.”

~*~

The majority of the trip back to Nevarro had been more of the same. Boba, and even Fennec, to some extent, taking you under their wing. The infamous bounty hunter and the assassin were oddly rather… parental in their actions? They didn’t baby you though if anything Fennec was a menace in surprising you with some rather intimidating facts. But she did it in such a way that made it feel she was trying to teach you rather than purely to scare you.

“A chokehold is actually safer than just clocking someone,” Fennec had told you unsolicited over some ration meals, gesturing to the spots she was referring to on her own neck. “The gold standard is a blood chokehold, apply pressure to the arteries at the sides of the neck and they’ll pass out in about 10 seconds. Air chokeholds take longer, more like 30 seconds to a full minute. More painful and potential for being messy with a possible struggle, though if you want to crush the larynx and trachea that would work better ”

You had gaped at her as the older woman continued to eat the perfectly cut cubes of meat-like protein as if this was a normal dinner conversation.

Which, apparently it was, for then Fennec and Dune both started comparing notes about hand-to-hand combat and debated finer points that your brain wasn’t ready to handle. You sort of got the points about balance and creating force when striking, but past that? It was like they were talking in a totally different language.

At this point, they had also resorted to locking the Moff up in a storage area that Boba had used for holding bounties before. You remembered from the movies that Fett had brought Han Solo to Jabba in carbonite, but that he hadn’t had a chamber himself, having instead used the system that Vader had set up. That, and the time he had spent surviving the deserts on Tatooine had meant he hadn’t updated that into his ship’s kit as of yet, so the glorified closet (which you did note seemed to be soundproof) would just have to do.

It was over the next mealtime, with Fett having confirmed it would only be about another twelve hours or so until you all reached your destination, that some new things started to be discussed.

“Since the child was returned to your care and your mission was completed, our deal has seemed to come to an end. We’ll be dropping you off here at Nevarro and then we’ll be parting ways with you and your group, Mandalorian.” Boba explained.

“You don’t want to wait to split the reward on that piece?” Cara asked, about Moff Gideon’s bounty when Mando remained quiet at the mention of his charge.

Boba and Fennec looked to each other, having a silent discussion between the two of them for a moment before Fennec answered for the both of them.

“The boss and I don’t really have a reason to go through the red tape bullshit for the money. Even if I’m not technically on the New Republic’s radar since as far as I know I’m marked as dead in the Bounty Hunter Guild’s databases, we’ve had other plans.”

“I’m rather sure they would know my face as well,” Fett said dryly.

Boba’s lips twitched as you snorted lightly at his joke. After all, he had probably one of the most recognizable faces in the galaxy considering all the clones that had been made in the image of Jango Fett.

“I don’t feel right in letting you leave without some sort of payment,” Mando finally spoke up, his tone firm.

Boba shook his head, “It wasn’t part of the deal. Even if you wanted to order me to take part of that monster’s bounty as Mand’alor, I still wouldn’t take it even then. As Fennec said, we have prospects on Tatooine that will keep us afloat and busy for some time. Taking care of our affairs, as it were and you’re going to need the money to get yourself a ride off this rock once we leave.”

Mando was silent for a moment, arms crossed in a clear show of his disapproval with the way things currently stood but apparently weighing the wisdom of Boba’s words.

“If you won’t take payment now, I still consider myself indebted to you both for your help,” Mando stated, parsing his words carefully. “You did more than most others would, I owe you a debt of honor for you to collect at a later date. I swear it to you on my own clan — on my signet of the Mudhorn — not on any title everyone seems to think I should have because of a karking sword.”

There was a moment of… not tension but something like it as the two men examined each other for a long moment before Boba nodded his head slightly in assent. “If you insist, I acknowledge your offer of a debt that will be collected at a later date.”

~*~

The remaining leg of your trip seemed to drag on for forever But now as Slave I hovered outside the atmosphere of Nevarro, it seemed somehow short now the destination was at hand.

There had been some discussion needed before proceeding. Marshal Dune was obliged to notify that she had a high-ranking war criminal under her purview, and technically she should have done so when Moff Gideon had first been captured.

But Fett had insisted that her New Republic handlers, were not to be notified until they had reached the grey rock of a planet you were currently floating above. After all, you were rather sure that whomever responded to such a high-profile capture would possibly recognize the very ship you were on. Seeing as Fett had a rather… complicated history having done some work for the Empire, you thought you rather understood his aversion to being around bureaucrats from the New Republic.

Cara’s contact had sounded rather bored until she repeated who was being brought in. There had been a crash on the other side of the call, which everyone had snorted at. It sounded like they had literally fallen out of their chair when they had her repeat “Moff Gideon”.

The sorting had turned into eye rolls — at least you assumed Mando had also done so, hard to tell with the helmet — when the person on the line put your call on hold. Obviously, this was something above the man’s pay grade to deal with without getting permission from the higher-ups first.

What you found even funnier though was the rolling message while you waited between little bouts of soothing music which somehow wasn’t soothing at all.

_“Thank you for holding. You have reached the New Republic Security Division for the Outer Rim sector. Your call is very important to us, please stay on the line until an available security representative can take your call. Please be aware this call may be recorded for quality control.”_

The message seemed to be on a loop with Basic, along with maybe another three or four languages before looping back to Basic again. The perky feminine voice had the bright sound of a customer service voice which you now knew was a literal universal phenomenon. 

You had to use your hand to stifle a nearly hysterical laugh at how familiar yet alien it was hearing fucking hold music and messages. It seemed so normal yet dissident from what you would have assumed to the pure everyday banality of it. They had light speed travel, the medicine you couldn’t fathom, lightsabers, and the force, but hold messages somehow all remained the same. Namely? They sucked.

After listening through the entire message twice a new voice came over the link. You didn’t catch their title, but it was long enough to sound important even if it actually wasn’t, the call had obviously been upgraded from the everyday ones that came through.

Marshal Dune was quickly informed that there were two star fighter pilots in the area who would be able to quickly escort a mini prisoner transport to Nevarro within the hour. And to rendezvous in front of the town with the local Magistrate.

Just one hour and Moff Gideon would be back under the total jurisdiction of the New Republic and… then what? You really had no idea what would happen after that or what would happen to your accidentally acquired traveling companions. There was just the ever-growing feeling that there was to be a parting of ways and you had no idea what that would mean for you.

“Mando,” Boba said after the channel for the call had finally been closed. “One moment before you start preparing to leave. I think I have something in mind for that debt of honor you’ve insisted on me accepting.”

The silver helmet tilted slightly before Mando responded, “And I intend to keep my word as I gave it.”

Fett grinned, “Good, ‘cause I know exactly what you can help me out with.”

~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> mir'shebika - little smart-ass


End file.
